Trials of Redemption
by Serendipity Cullen
Summary: AU. Due to the sins of District Thirteen, the twelve districts of Storybrooke must be reaped for tributes to the annual Hunger Games. Who will win? Who will lose? Is everything as it seems? Or is there more going on beneath the surface? May the odds be EVER in your favor.
1. Chapter 1 - The Reaping

**A/N - I've dipped my toe in the water of writing OUAT fics with a short Rumbelle story. Now, I'm jumping in with both feet, but...I'm cheating lol This is an AU _Once Upon A Time_ story with a _Hunger Games_ theme! I hope you enjoy!**

**I do not own anything related to _Once Upon A Time_ or _The Hunger Games_!**

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><p><span>Chapter 1 - The Reaping<span>

The raven-haired president smoothed her perfectly manicured hands over her skirt before turning to view herself in the mirror. Yes, this was perfect. Simple enough for an interview, but classy enough to emanate power. It was merely an interview, but she couldn't let the people of Storybrooke forget who she was.

Regina retrieved the brush from her bag and began brushing her hair as her mind roamed. Tonight was the night! The eve of the reaping! The Capitol was a buzz with energy-who would be reaped from the districts? Who would be the ultimate winner of the games? Who would be joining them in The Capitol in a few short weeks?

Yet there was one question very few lingered on-who would die?

Regina's hand froze in mid brush as the thought raked through her. How many young people were going to die in the upcoming weeks? Twenty-three to be exact. Twenty-four teenagers would enter the arena, but only one would leave. The shallow, frivolous people of The Capitol focused on the winner rather than the road of blood that lead to the winner. It seemed that the president of Storybrook was the only one who thought of the lives lost. She was the only one who thought of what all was involved in declaring a winner.

The president sank into the chair and took a deep, shaky breath. She hated this! She hated the games! Regina wished that she could abolish the games, but abolishing the games would portray her as a weak leader. Her mother had always told her that strength was power, and being strong sometimes meant doing things that you never wanted to do. Continuing the games would be yet another item on the long list of things Regina Mills never wanted to do.

At the top of the list was becoming president of Storybrooke.

A decade ago, the widowed Cora Mills had taken the role of president; after Henry Mills surprisingly passed with a massive heart attack, Cora chose to keep power in the family by assuming the role of president. Regina's mother had much experience with the duties of president, after all, she was the driving force behind Henry. Like Regina, Henry Mills never wanted the power that came with being president. Cora was the one that pushed her husband into the position, took the position, and then dropped the power in Regina's lap when she was diagnosed with cancer.

The only reason Regina took the position as president of Storybrooke was that Cora basically manipulated her into it; you'd think a woman on her deathbed would have thoughts other than those of power, but no. Cora begged that Regina follow in her steps and assume the role as leader of Storybrooke.

How could the Mills daughter refuse?

So here she was-Regina was ruler of the twelve districts of Storybrooke.

Storybrooke was at once a simple land, a land made of thirteen districts. Each district had its own circle of leaders, and everything ran smoothly. Then one day the leaders of district thirteen decided that they wanted to rule over all districts; they wanted to be the only rulers of Storybrooke. A rebellion began, and district thirteen was destroyed; blown off the map. The rebellion caused devastation that would haunt Storybrooke forever. The rebellion caused the need for one president, the separation of The Capitol, and the games. Because of the rebellion, each district was required to sacrifice one girl and one boy each year as a reminder of what happens when you balk the system. Regina was the one in control, and The Capitol was made up of those who would never, ever defy the system. The Capitol began as a few pampered ones, but grew once the games were formed.

Each year, the victor of the games was allowed to spend the rest of his or her days in The Capitol. They would never desire for anything again, and they were a symbol of the silver lining of the rebellion. Each victor symbolized hope. Despite the history of Storybrooke, hope remained.

Unless of course, you happened to be one of the twenty-three that died in pursuit of hope.

Regina brushed away a stray tear that trickled down her cheek. The entire system was screwed! How could mass murder symbolize hope? How could throwing teenagers in an arena symbolize hope? How could watching a slaughter possibly encourage hope? "What?!" the president barked as a knock rang through the dressing room.

"Easy, mate, it's only me."

Regina pushed the annoyance aside as her eyes took in Killian Jones, head gamemaker of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. "Is it time?"

"Almost," Killian replied smoothly as he adjusted his jacket and leaned against the door frame casually. "Sidney is in fine form tonight."

"When is he not?" Regina rolled her eyes.

True to Storybrooke tradition, Region and the head gamemaker were to give their interviews with the flamboyant Sidney Glass. Sidney would later interview the tributes prior to entering the arena, but the man loved pumping up the excitement of The Capitol by getting things going with the President and gamemaker. The President's part was quite boring, to be honest. Regina would give the standard answers of how participating in the games was an honor; even when the tributes were lost in battle, they would die with honor. Each district would honor the fallen tributes because the tributes were trying to better themselves and their family. Not to mention that The Capitol was extending grace by offering a home to the victor. The Capitol could have simply destroyed the other twelve districts, but in an act of trust, the districts were allowed to continue living as they had before...except for the games, of course. All actions had consequences, and The Capitol couldn't risk another rebellion. The Capitol was forced to instill a system of punishment because of the actions of District Thirteen; they would never have come up with these games unless they were forced into it.

Regina knew her lines well.

Killian's gaze narrowed as he studied the woman. "Is something bothering you, President Mills?" The question was already a personal one, so the man figured he should address her with respect at least.

"No, of course not," Regina dismissed after applying her lipstick. "What could possibly be bothering me, Mr. Jones? It's the night before the reaping! How exciting!" The words felt like acid on her tongue.

A smirk curved the man's lips as he pushed away from the door frame and extended his arm. "I do hope you enjoy my games this year, President Mills."

"I'm sure I will," the president put a smile on her face as she took his arm and was lead towards the stage. Regina had to force herself not to cringe at Killian's touch; the only thing worse than leading Storybrooke was being a gamemaker. How could someone create an arena, a game, that was intended to murder twenty-three teenagers? What kind of black heart created traps designed to bring out the bloodlust in a child?

The Capitol was slick-it convinced the teens that it was kill or be killed, and then it sat back and watched the show.

The president of Storybrooke forced the betraying thoughts from her mind as the gamemaker dropped his arm. "Sidney _is_ worked up tonight," she initiated conversation as an uncomfortable silence settled in.

"I warned you," Killian chuckled and shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd be so excited if he was entering the games himself."

Regina bit her lip, fighting back her true thoughts. The Capitol was filled with spies, and there were plenty of people who would eagerly relieve her of her duties, especially if she was found to be defiant of the system. Resisting the bait, the President quipped, "I'm sure he would. Entering the games is an honor."

Killian turned his blue eyes to her, studying the woman a moment before speaking. "Do you truly believe that?"

Squaring her shoulders, Regina nodded firmly. "Yes. I do." Her head jerked towards the stage as Sidney bounced up and down, practically shrieking her name. "Have fun out there, Mr. Jones."

Killian's gaze followed the woman as she was lead onstage. A part of him thought that she was one of them, but...he was mistaken.

"Calm down, calm down!" Sidney Glass crowed, waving his arm towards the citizens of The Capitol. The man doubled over laughing as the crowd continued to cheer for their President. "They love you!" he shrieked over the noise in an attempt to gain control.

"Do you blame them?" Regina sassed, winking towards the crowd, causing them to cheer louder. God, how she hated this.

"Woo!" Sidney breathed several minutes later after finally managing to quiet the crowd. "I thought I was going to have to call in for back up."

"Who, you?" Regina teased. "Are you losing your touch, dear Sidney?"

Sidney wiggled his eyebrows at the camera, causing the crowd to laugh. "Me? Never, my dear President." He grinned widely before shifting to face Regina. "How excited are you for the reaping tomorrow?"

"Not near as excited as you are," the President quipped, motioning to the man in a baby blue suit with a pink glittery tie and pink hair to match. "Doesn't he look lovely, everyone?"

The crowd cheered again as Sidney stood and spun around for everyone to admire. "I don't hold a candle to you, love," he countered, pulling Regina to her feet and spinning her for the audience.

"Oh, Sidney, you're making me blush!" the President covered her face, working the camera. That was one of the tricks of the infamous Cora Mills.

Sidney cackled as he dropped into his chair and crossed one leg over the other. "I'm not even sure if I can sleep tonight! I'm so excited for the reaping!" he tried to redirect the interview.

"So am I," Regina agreed, forcing a lightness to her tone. "It's such an honor, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is," Sidney agreed, thankful for the President's cooperation. "And a reminder of the past, right?"

"Right," Regina nodded, picking up her cue. "Do you happen to have the video, Mr. Glass?"

"I always do!" Sidney chirped and motioned to the large screen behind him.

Regina managed to keep a respectful smile on her face as the standard, traditional video of Storybrooke was shown. "Wow," she breathed, ducking her head as the screen faded to black when the video was over.

"I know," Sidney added, dabbing at his eyes dramatically. "It brings back such gut-wrenching memories, doesn't it?"

"Times were so dark then," the President tisked, her voice soft.

Sidney tucked his tissue into the pocket of his jacket before turning to face the dark-haired woman. "How do you feel about the upcoming games, President Mills?"

Regina dropped her eyes, then shook her head sadly. "I hate the darkness that the games bring, but...I make myself focus on the hope." It was tiring, giving the same answer, but the woman knew that if she didn't remind the citizens what the rebellion ultimately cost them...they may very well try to overthrow _her_ this time.

Sidney paused dramatically. "How does death bring hope?"

The President's eyebrow raised suspiciously as she looked to the decorated man. If she didn't know better, Regina would suspect that Sidney had been fed that line by a member of the rebellion...but that was impossible. The rebellion was over. Dead. She cleared her throat before speaking. "The hope is in The Capitol, Mr. Glass. The Capitol could have punished the Districts much more severely."

"Oh really?" Sidney baited. "How so?"

Regina tossed her hair over her shoulder. "We could have requested that _everyone's_ name be placed in the ballot box," she pointed out. "Or we could have forced multiple submissions. As things stand now, the odds of being chosen are very low, depending on the size of your district. Being chosen though...it gives the tributes a chance to not only win the games, but to become a part of The Capitol. To live in a place much better than their own District. To have a life of freedom. A life of luxury." Regina turned her eyes to the camera. "A life of hope."

The crowd erupted in cheers, yelling praises to the President of Storybrooke.

Sidney jumped from his chair, waving his arms for everyone to quiet down. "Ah, madam Mills, you do manage to ignite hope in us all."

"It's my job, Sidney," she laughed in return, giving a dazzling smile to the interviewer.

"One you do very well," the man grinned and let a moment of silence settle. "So, President Mills, do you happen to know anything regarding the games this year?"

Regina looked over her shoulder before leaning towards the man. "Can you keep a secret?"

Sidney directed wide eyes towards the audience before scooting closer to the President. "My lips are sealed!"

"I don't know a thing," the woman whispered, then laughed as Sidney gasped and swatted her leg. "You'll have to ask our gamemaker!"

"Well, let's bring him out here!" Sidney exclaimed and jumped to his feet. "Come on down, Mr. Killian Jones!"

The cheering citizens of The Capitol turned into screaming fangirls as the dashing Killian Jones made his way on stage, winking to the camera every chance he got.

"Ladies, calm down!" Sidney laughed as Killian took the empty seat beside Regina. "Someone should get the hose!" He laughed again as the crowd finally quieted down. "The man of the hour," he began, sitting back in his chair and motioning to the gamemaker.

"Me?" Killian asked innocently, flashing a devious smile to the crowd.

"Don't get them going again!" Sidney scolded, wagging his finger at the man.

"Okay, okay," Killian replied, holding his hands up.

Sidney laughed and shook his head. "It seems you haven't shared any secrets with the President about the arena, but would you mind giving us a little tidbit? Please?"

The gamemaker made a dramatic motion of considering the request. "I'm not sure if I can trust you..." The crowd began yelling out pleas, causing Killian to laugh. "Let's just say...I hope they can swim."

As Killian Jones continued to enchant the crowd, a blonde woman moved carefully through The Capitol citizens, most of who never even acknowledged her existence. Their eyes were glued to the gorgeous man onstage. The woman was thankful for the distraction-the meeting might have been more difficult to escape to if a less attractive person was the gamemaker this year. "Hey," she greeted the couple standing outside the auditorium.

"Did you hear that?!" Snow White exclaimed, her voice elevated. "Swim?!"

"Take it easy," Emma Swan advised. "There's water in the arena, so what?"

"Snow's afraid the tributes from District Four will have the advantage," David, or Charming as he was known by, pointed out. "District Four practically owns anything related to water."

"What if this is the wrong time?" Snow asked, wringing her hands, clearly distraught. "Maybe...maybe we should just wait until next year!"

"We can't," Emma hissed, glancing over her shoulder towards the auditorium. "Now is the time."

"I just don't know," Snow sighed heavily.

"We should have been prepared for a water based arena," Charming said, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Rumor has it that Jones was some sort of pirate before coming to Storybrooke."

"Who cares about him?" Emma asked, looking between the two. "District Four isn't infallible. They're not even one of the Careers."

"They do have more experience with water though," Snow pointed out. "I just...are you sure, Emma?"

The blonde smiled at the woman patiently. Emma didn't blame Snow for being anxious-they were going to pull off something big this year. "I've already exchanged the boxes."

"I thought you were going to do that tonight," Charming frowned as Snow gasped.

"I was, but I saw an opportunity this morning while the PeaceKeepers were out," Emma replied and bit her lip.

Snow White took in slow, deep breath, releasing it through slightly parted lips. "The plan is in motion."

"The plan is in motion," Emma confirmed. Earlier in the day The Capitol was abuzz with excitement regarding the night's interviews with the President and the head gamemaker, and the blonde was able to slip out of The Capitol and catch a train into District Nine. No one from District Nine noticed her-they all assumed she was simply there to see Henry, her son. Emma _did_ visit her son, but afterwards she slipped into the town hall building and exchanged the box of male names for a box of her own.

A box that contained only one name.

Charming looked between the two women before asking, "Are you sure we can trust him?"

"I've been watching Rumplestiltskin for years," the former victor replied. "He can do it."

"I'm sure he can do it, but can we trust him?"

"He volunteered to help us!" Emma exclaimed, her brows knitting together. "That in itself says we can trust him." Rumplestiltskin was the only one who could assist the rebellion. He was the only one who displayed the power and leadership needed to overthrow the President. "I trust him," she added.

"What if he turns on us?" Snow countered.

Emma hesitated. That very fear had crossed her mind before...many times before. Rumplestiltskin possessed the power the rebellion needed, but having that much power put _him_ at an advantage. Not them. "He's our only chance. Trust me, okay?"

The couple relaxed slightly. "We should get back inside," Charming spoke up. "They're going to notice we're missing if we stay out here any longer."

Emma nodded in agreement. "I'll see you tomorrow." Quietly, the three slipped into the auditorium and returned to their seats among The Capitol citizens as the President and gamemaker left the stage. _Enjoy tonight_, Emma thought to herself. _Tomorrow is the beginning of the end._

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><p>The next morning in District Nine, Belle French ran trembling fingers through her dark locks. "Calm down," she instructed her reflection before taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. She brushed through her hair before taking dark strands and forming a braid, tying the end with a blue ribbon.<p>

"You look beautiful."

Jumping slightly, Belle looked to her father. "Thank you," she said softly, her cheeks reddening.

Moe French quietly crossed the room, placing his hands on his daughter's shoulders. "Are you worried?"

"A little," his daughter admitted, biting her lip.

Moe nodded and drew her to his side, hugging her tightly. "You'll come home today, dear Belle. You have to."

Belle put her cheek to her father's chest and blinked back tears. A part of her wasn't that afraid of being called to the arena. She didn't really fit into District Nine anyway. District Nine was known for its grain. The citizens of District Nine either planted, harvested, or spun, and Belle didn't do any of those things. She didn't have the talent to water and fertilize, so none of her crops survived to harvest, and the young maiden didn't have the patience to spin straw. The only thing she desired was to be left alone so that she could read. Belle adored books. It was easy to put the worries of the world behind and get lost in a story of a far away land with dungeons and dragons, princes and princesses, and kisses of true love.

The other part of the French daughter desperately hoped that her name _wasn't_ called today. Her father wouldn't survive if she was called into the arena; he depended on her. Moe worked the fields all day while Belle kept the house and made dinner. Her poor father would starve without her! "We should probably go," she murmured against his chest.

"Just one more moment."

Belle's lower lip trembled as fresh tears threatened to spill over her lids. She couldn't be called into the arena! She just couldn't! What would become of her father? He couldn't lose her mother _and_ her! Fate couldn't possibly be that cruel to him. "Oh!" she cried out as someone, probably a PeaceKeeper, banged on their door.

"Moe French? Belle French?" a man's voice called.

"We're coming!" Belle yelled back, scowling deeply. "You'd think they'd give us a moment..." She looked to her father, seeing the worry in his eyes.

"They're just afraid that you'll run," Moe replied, cupping her head and placing a kiss to her forehead.

The dark-haired girl worked up a smile before moving away from her father and throwing open the door. "We're on our way," she informed the PeaceKeeper as he marked her name from a list.

"Be at the square in five minutes."

Belle nodded before looking back to her father. "I'll see you soon." She slipped from the house quickly, before actual tears could be shed. The young woman wasn't sure she could go to the square if her father began to cry. Straightening her shoulders, Belle held her head high and followed the crowd towards the square. She refused to behave as if she were afraid-that's what The Capitol wanted. They wanted to see her crying and wailing, begging for mercy. Begging not to be chosen. The French daughter refused to beg for mercy-if the odds were ever in her favor, then she wouldn't be chosen. And if they weren't...

Belle shook the thought from her mind as she approached the table. "B-Belle Fr-French," she said to the PeaceKeeper and extended her hand.

"You've been here before," the man remarked before sticking her finger with a lancet.

"Three times before," Belle murmured as he swiped her finger on a card and ran the card through a machine.

"Belle French," the man confirmed as her information lit up on a small screen. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Taking another deep breath, the bookworm quietly continued towards the square, standing beside the baker's daughter.

The normally bustling square was eerily quiet this morning. The teenagers were frozen in fear, each one worried that their name would be called. That they would be thrown into an arena to either kill or be killed. To never see their friends or family again.

Belle twined her shaking fingers, feeling the anxiety begin to take control. She had been giving herself pep talks for days, but now that The Reaping was here, she was scared out of her mind! She didn't want this! She didn't want to die! The young girl began to shift her weight from leg to leg as she felt her throat tighten up. She was in a full-on panic attack now. The square was beginning to spin before her eyes, and she knew that any second she was going to pass out or throw up.

"Water?"

"E-Excuse me-me?" she stuttered, looking to her left.

"Water?" a soothing voice offered, a hand extending her a cup of water. "You look like you could use it."

Belle nodded before taking the cup, gulping down the water quickly. "Th-Thank y-y-you," she breathed, lifting her eyes to meet...the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes she'd ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes scanned the boy in front of her. He was slightly taller than her, slim, brown hair framing his face, and those eyes...she could get lost in those eyes forever.

"You're welcome." The boy took a step back before giving her a fraction of a smile. "Good luck today."

Belle, still entranced, nodded dumbly. "Y-You too." She bit the inside of her cheek as she watched the boy return to his place among the other boys. He, like her, didn't have very many friends it seemed. She continued to stare at him, but looked away quickly when he met her gaze.

Seconds later a loud horn blew through the air before a PeaceKeeper lead David Nolan onto the stage facing the scared teenagers. David scanned the two groups, a sorrow flowing through him. He hated Reaping day, hated it with every fiber of his being. These children didn't deserve this! They weren't to blame for the actions of District Thirteen! How could The Capitol be okay with doing this to them? Taking a deep breath, David forced himself to remain calm. The Capitol would get theirs-today would be the last Reaping. Ever. "Hello, citizens of District Nine," he greeted, tucking his cue card into his back pocket. "Today is the Reaping for the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. Today I will draw one female name and one male name. You will then become tributes, and you will be trained for the games." As if he needed to remind them. "May I introduce one of your trainers, who also happens to be the only victor from District Nine. Miss Emma Swan." He motioned to Emma, who stepped forward and gave a sorrowful smile to the teenagers.

David looked back over the crowd and cleared his throat again. "May I direct your attention to the history of Storybrooke." He motioned to the screen behind him as the infamous film began to play.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes from his position on the boys' side of the square. Thank goodness this was the last time he'd have to watch this dreaded thing! He scanned his eyes over the other boys who stood with him; none of them had his abilities. Or his power. No wonder Emma had come to him months earlier, asking for his assistance in a new rebellion. Even though he was only eighteen, the previous victor knew that he possessed a power that those twice his age didn't possess. Rumplestiltskin was the only one who could win the games, enter The Capitol, and help them overthrow President Mills.

Rumplestiltskin offered to assist Emma and the other members of the rebellion, but he had a plan of his own. The boy possessed a knowledge of magic and potions; a knowledge that very few knew that he possessed. No one suspected that someone as young as he could cast spells. Or curses. He had been working on a curse for many years now, a curse that would destroy Storybrooke. If Emma and her accomplices didn't make _him_ the new President of Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin would release the curse without a second thought.

He didn't tell them this, of course. The rebellion would use him to win the games, overthrow the President, and then assassinate him. Rumplestiltskin wasn't stupid; he would hold onto the curse until the time was right. Then, he would rule Storybrooke.

The boy giggled to himself as his eyes moved over to the girls. The poor damsels-they all feared for their little lives. His thoughts softened as his gaze landed on the dark-haired girl from moments before. She still appeared distraught, and Rumplestiltskin wanted to go to her, but he forced himself to remain in place. He couldn't overplay his hand. Not now.

As the screen faded, David looked back towards the white-faced teens gathered on either side of the square. "Remember, through the ashes of rebellion, comes the hope of the future." He coughed and cleared his throat, the words nearly souring his stomach. "It is an honor to be chosen to represent your District. The victor of the Hunger Games will join us in The Capitol and be...free. Forever." He gave them an encouraging smile. "May the odds be ever in your favor." David left the microphone and walked slowly towards the box containing the female names. He wasn't in a rush; the girls would need time to mentally prepare themselves anyway. Slowly, he lifted the lid and reached inside, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper.

David returned to the microphone. "Ladies first," he spoke, his eyes moving over the girls standing frozen in fear. After unfolding the paper, the escort leaned towards the microphone and spoke the name of the female tribute. "Belle French."

All color drained from Belle's face as her name echoed through the square. No! She wasn't chosen! No, she refused to believe it! This was a bad dream! A nightmare! She wasn't being called into the arena to die! What about her father? How would Moe ever go on without her? Who would cook dinner for him? Pack his lunch? Mend his shirts? No! She was needed at home! Why wasn't she waking up?!

The crowd parted as David repeated her name. Belle felt herself begin to tremble as the PeaceKeepers moved towards her. Should she run? Fight them off?

No, that would be suicide.

Belle forced herself to step forward as they closed in on her. "I'm Belle French," she informed them, her tone heavy with defeat. Her steps echoed in her ears as she walked slowly towards the stage. This was it. Her life was over. There was no way she was going to survive the arena. Belle didn't have any skills meant for the games-she couldn't fight, couldn't hunt, and she certainly couldn't kill anyone. It would probably be best if she just lay in the fetal position and wait for someone to kill her quickly.

Emma felt remorse fill her as the scared brunette climbed the stairs and stood beside David. District Nine's female tribute. Instinctively, the blonde moved to the girl's side and wrapped her arm around her shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered. It wasn't going to be okay; they all knew that. But at least this girl could enjoy a few good moments in The Capitol before the games began.

David looked to Belle and smiled softly before walking towards the box containing the male names. Or in this case, the male's name. There was only one name in that box. Plucking a sheet of folded paper from the box, District Nine's escort returned to the microphone. "Rumplestiltskin."

Whispers moved through the citizens of the district like a tidal wave. Rumplestiltskin was reaped? Rumplestiltskin was going into the arena? He was ruthless! District Nine was going to have another victor! Rumplestiltskin was going to get plenty of sponsors! He would probably score a twelve! Everyone would be betting on him! Rumplestiltskin was going to win!

Belle's eyes grew to the size of saucers as the boy who offered her the water walked towards the stage. _That_ was Rumplestiltskin? _That_ was the boy that was rumored to practice dark magic? How could that be true-he seemed so nice! Her legs began to wobble as the fear consumed her. She didn't stand a chance! Her partner could probably murder her with his bare hands!

David looked between the two teens as the rest of the district relaxed. "District Nine, I announce your tributes for The Hunger Games! Belle French and Rumplestiltskin." He stepped back and motioned to the tributes. "Shake hands, you two!"

Rumplestiltskin turned towards Belle, offering his hand to her. The brunette, white as a sheet, put her cold, shaking hand in his. His hand wrapped around hers as he studied her. The girl was scared, that was obvious, but...she already possessed a look of defeat. It was as if she had already declared herself bloodbath material. For the first time, Rumplestiltskin felt...a protective feeling move through him. He didn't want this girl to count herself out already! Half of the battle was fought in the mind! If she had already defeated herself in her mind, then she wouldn't last an hour in the arena. "It's going to be okay," he whispered to her, not even sure where the words were coming from.

"Yeah," Belle murmured back, pulling her hand from his.

"Look for your tributes in the upcoming days!" David encouraged District Nine. "You will see them again before the games! They have scoring and interviews! President Mills will inform you of the times. Thank you." He turned away from the crowd and looked to the teenagers. "Say goodbye to your family, then meet me at the train. We have a lot of work to do."

Rumplestiltskin motioned for Belle to go first, then he followed behind her, taking her in. A girl like Belle would definitely be Career meat. It was clear that she wasn't a fighter, so they'd probably pick her off first. Maybe, just maybe, he could protect her. At least for the first day. Maybe even the first days.

Rumplestiltskin just hoped that he wouldn't have to kill her himself.


	2. Chapter 2 - The Tributes

Chapter 2 - The Tributes

In a matter of moments Belle was swept from the entourage and ushered into a room by two PeaceKeepers, the slamming door rocking through her core.

This wasn't a dream; this was real! She was now another statistic in the games. Her name was reaped for District Nine, and in two weeks Belle would be entering an arena with twenty-three other teenagers in a fight to the death.

A wave of anxiety took over the girl as she began to pace the small room. This was it! Her life was over! There was no possible way for her to win The Hunger Games! Belle spent her time reading, writing, and taking care of her father; how was she supposed to pick up a sword and kill someone? Would she be the only tribute that had never held a piece of weaponry? And let's not forget that the other tribute from District Nine could probably murder her with one arm tied behind his back! Rumplestiltskin was _made_ for the games, and everyone knew it! She on the other hand...

Belle shook the thoughts from her head as she continued to pace the room. She couldn't think like this, not now anyway. Her father would be here soon, and she had to be strong for him. Moe was probably shattered to pieces; he knew his daughter wouldn't be coming out of the arena alive. The dark-haired girl ran her hand through her hair and inhaled deeply, mentally preparing herself to see her father. If she was a wreck, it would only make things worse for him. Belle had to be strong for her father. She had to tell him that everything would be okay, even though they both knew that it wouldn't be.

The minutes continued to tick by as Belle waited patiently for Moe to enter the room to bid her farewell. The young woman began to fret as time seemed to come to a stop. Why wasn't he here? Could he not bear to tell her goodbye? Was he going to let their morning exchange be the final memory she had of him? "Father," she breathed when the man finally passed through the doors.

"Belle," Moe sighed, gathering his tearful daughter in his arms. He cupped her head, holding her against him as he fought back tears. The father didn't even know what to say to her. He wanted to encourage her, but they both knew that Belle wasn't made for the arena.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," she gulped against his chest.

"I had to return home," her father whispered into her hair and ran his hand into his pocket. "Here. Hide it."

Belle's mouth dropped as her slender fingers wrapped around the familiar journal. "Oh father," she sighed, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

"Hide it, quickly!"

The brunette stuffed the journal into the pocket of her dress and blinked back the tears. "Thank you...thank you so much."

"I thought it would remind you of home." Moe cleared his throat before speaking again. "Don't count yourself out, Belle. Emma won the games when no one else thought she would."

Belle sighed heavily. "But father, I've never even raised a sword! How can I kill someone?"

The man hesitated. "Form an alliance with Rumplestiltskin," he offered after a few seconds of silence. "The entire District knows how powerful he is...it wouldn't hurt to have him on your side."

The French daughter gave her father a sad smile. Unfortunately, the games didn't work that way. Sure, she and Rumplestiltskin could form an alliance, but it could only come down to one victor. Eventually they'd have to turn on one another, and Belle knew how that would end. "I will try, father."

"Please, Belle!" Moe begged, grasping her hands tightly. "The other tributes will fear him, and you can stay alive if you're his ally."

"I will, I promise." She hated to lie to him, but it would make their goodbye easier.

"Use your time well," the man continued, desperation heavy in his voice. "Read everything you can! Train hard, okay? Do the very best you can, and make it back to us!"

"Yes, father," Belle nodded, blinking back threatening tears. "Take your torn shirts to Granny," she instructed, switching gears before her father crumbled before her. "She will fuss and complain, but she'll help you, I promise."

"One minute!" a PeaceKeeper yelled as he banged on the door.

"Trade the straw to Tamara," the daughter rushed on quickly. "She is the only one who will give you a fair trade. And only buy your milk from Peter; the others water it down."

Moe nodded. "I'll be fine, Belle, I promise."

The tribute threw her arms around him tightly. "I love you!" she exclaimed as the PeaceKeepers barged into the room and pulled her father away. "Father, I love you!"

"I love you, Belle!"

"This way, Belle French," a PeaceKeeper ordered, ushering her from the room and towards the rear entrance of town hall.

"You can release her!" David snapped as the man lead her outside to a waiting car. "Are you okay?" he asked as the girl was shoved in his direction.

"Yes, I'm fine," Belle nodded, absently rubbing her throbbing arm. "Where are we going?"

"To the train station," Emma replied as she approached the car. "It's a ten minute drive. We need to leave now."

"Wh-Where's Rumplestiltskin?" the female tribute asked unsurely, looking over her shoulder.

"In here, dearie," came a reply from inside the car.

"Oh." Belle bit her lip before following Emma into the backseat of the car as David joined the PeaceKeeper in the front. A small part of her wondered how many people were breaking in the door to say goodbye to Rumplestiltskin...not that they'd _have_ to say goodbye to him. He'd be returning as the victor in less than a month.

The car pulled away from the town hall as the citizens of District Nine gathered in the streets cheering for the new tributes. The bookworm wasn't certain, but she believed she heard a chant of Rumplestiltskin's name moving through the people outside. They all knew who was the district's chance at a victory this year. A tear rolled down her cheek as the car moved through the place she had grown up. This would be the last time Belle would ever see District Nine.

Rumplestiltskin shifted uncomfortably as the crowd continued to cheer. He didn't care if he had the district's support or not, but cheering for only one tribute meant that the other tribute had to die. The people should be cheering for Belle as well! The tribute looked over to her, seeing a tear slide down her cheek; the young woman didn't even bother to wipe it away. It was clear that she didn't want to make her feelings known to anyone in the car. She wanted to suffer in silence. Rumplestiltskin respected her for that.

"This is our stop," Emma informed the tributes minutes later as the car rolled to a stop outside a large silver train.

"Wow," Belle mused as she stepped from the car slowly. "How many cars is it?"

"You're familiar with trains?" David smirked as he climbed from the passenger seat.

"Just in pictures," Belle shrugged casually and ducked her head.

"Follow me," Emma interrupted the brief exchange as she stepped around the timid teenage girl. "We can't be late; President Mills will blame me if we're late."

The dark-haired tribute followed behind the blonde victor, stepping inside the train. Belle stopped short, her eye wandering. The stainless steel interior was remarkable, and quite fitting of The Capitol. District Nine wasn't destitute by a long shot, but it was nowhere near the pampered lifestyle of The Capitol citizens. The interior of the train alone could easily surpass a million dollar budget. Belle traced her finger down the wall as she followed her mentor. "Wow," she gaped as Emma stopped in the dining car. Displayed before them were multiple buffet tables with dishes of delicacies for them to enjoy. Across from the buffet were smaller, squared shaped stainless steel tables covered with lace table clothes. Crystal goblets and gold utensils sat at each place setting. The dining car looked as if were ripped from a chic magazine.

David cleared his throat as he joined the blonde's side. "Emma and I have a few things to take care of, but I encourage you to eat and get to know one another." He motioned to a table of delicacies before looking back to the tributes. "This is one of the few times you will be able to socialize outside of training. You should take advantage of it." His words seemed to have a hidden warning laced within them.

Belle bit her lip and nodded before the victor and the escort left the car. "O-Oh," she cried softly as the train jolted.

Rumplestiltskin was at her side in a fraction of a second. "The train is leaving the station," he informed her as his hand pressed to her low back. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the brunette blushed, ducking her head. "I've, uh, never been on a train before."

"Neither have I, dearie," he teased, stepping away from her.

Belle felt her cheeks redden, and she blew her bangs from her forehead absently. "Are you nervous? About the games, I mean?"

The simple question made Rumplestiltskin stop short. Of course he wasn't nervous; after all, _he_ was going to be the ultimate victor of the games. The knowledge of his future made him feel dirty beneath the gaze of her innocent blue eyes. His victory meant her death. "Let's not talk of the games," he blew her off as he retrieved two plates. "I'm sure we'll have enough of that in the upcoming days."

"Thank you," the young girl said softly as he passed her one of the dishes. She supposed the older boy was right-why ruin their last moments of freedom with talk of her inevitable death?

Rumplestiltskin lingered behind his fellow tribute, observing as the girl delicately picked at the exquisite food displayed before them. "Have you ever had sushi before, Belle?" he directed at her.

The female tribute jarred at the sound of her name on his tongue. "N-No, I haven't," she murmured, her eye lingering on the display card beneath the tray of seaweed wrapped fish. "I've only read about it," she tacked on as he stared at her intently. To be honest, Belle wasn't very familiar with any of the food displayed in their lunch selection. District Nine stuck to food basics such as rice, bread, and beef; they never had such fancy selections. Sushi, crab, escargot...The Capitol was throwing out the red carpet for the tributes it seemed.

"Well, if these are our last days, then we may as well live it up," he reasoned.

"May as well," the brunette agreed quietly, a sadness filling her core. She'd hoped her last days would be filled with happier memories, but it seemed those days would be spent fighting to last another second in an arena.

"You like to read, don't you?" Rumplestiltskin inquired as he retrieved the tongs and offered her a piece of sushi.

"I do," Belle replied, nodding.

"That explains why I always see you with a book," the boy remarked as he set a piece of sushi on her plate.

"Y-You see me?" she inquired, clearly surprised. Someone like Rumplestiltskin had noticed _her_?

"At school?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"R-Right," she stuttered, feeling silly. School, of course! Belle bit her lip as the two moved to a small, square dining table. "I haven't really noticed you in school," she admitted shyly.

"Not many do, dearie," Rumplestiltskin replied with ease, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. He was rarely noticed by members of the opposite sex, but the powerful boy was noticed by those who mattered. Unfortunately, a small part of him wished he had been noticed by the lovely young woman sitting across from him.

Two pairs of eyes shifted as the door to the dining car opened and Emma and David stepped inside. "Are you enjoying yourselves?" Emma asked as the escort placed a black box on dining table.

"The food is delicious," Belle nodded after dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

"Try it with this," David smiled, pouring up a dish of a dark sauce and passing it to the tribute. He couldn't explain it, but his heart went out to Belle. Perhaps it was her innocence that spoke to him...or that she reminded him of Snow; either way, the girl didn't belong in the arena, and the escort wished that they could save her as well. Unfortunately, their plan was already in motion, and Rumplestiltskin would be the sole winner of the games. Belle would have to die for the greater good.

"What's that?" Rumplestiltskin asked, motioning to the black box as the female tribute enjoyed her sushi. He knew what the device was, but he was having to play stupid for The Capitol's benefit. Cameras were everywhere, and if anyone suspected him as a plant...the rebellion would be ruined! And they'd all be dead. How could he rule Storybrooke from a coffin?

"We're going to review who was reaped today," Emma explained as David punched a few buttons and a projection was thrown onto the wall of the dining car.

"Can we do that?" Belle gasped as she set her fork aside.

"Not usually, but it's a benefit of being part of The Capitol," David winked at the tribute before stepping aside. He had to remember that he wasn't supposed to take a very active role in the tributes this year. Spies were everywhere, and he couldn't be suspected of being more than a simple escort.

"The footage was aired live from each district," Emma explained as her eyes shifted between the tributes. "It won't hurt to see who your competition is."

Belle nodded as she folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't believe that she was actually in the same room as the infamous Emma Swan! Not only was Emma known for being the only victor of District Nine, but scandal also surrounded the blonde beauty. According to rumor, Emma turned up pregnant after winning the games. Sure, the eighteen year old hid it for as long as possible, but one fact remained etched in history-she was pregnant _after_ winning the games. Some thought the blonde had hooked up with one of the other tributes during the games, but most dismissed that theory due to The Capitol having multiple cameras scattered throughout the arena. The hopeless romantics believed that Emma shared one last night with her boyfriend before entering the games. Belle was a romantic at heart and believed that Emma had a passionate night with the one she loved that ultimately resulted in the birth of her son Henry. Unfortunately, children weren't allowed to live in The Capitol, so Henry remained in District Nine, Emma's home district. Henry would remain in District Nine until he was eighteen...or until he was reaped. If he managed to avoid The Reaping, Henry would join his mother in The Capitol, and they could finally have a life together.

"These are the tributes from District One," Emma explained as she accessed The Capitol database. "The female tribute is Ingrid, eighteen years old. It appears she volunteered."

"She volunteered?" Rumplestiltskin questioned as David winced.

"Yeah," the escort chimed in. "If I'm not mistaken, Ingrid had two sisters who recently passed away."

Emma nodded slowly as he spoke. "It's no surprise that she volunteered then."

"Right," David agreed.

"So she's grieving _and_ a career?" Rumplestiltskin questioned. "Wonderful."

"Wha-What's a career?" Belle questioned quietly, feeling like an outsider to the conversation.

"Careers are members of District One and District Two," the District Nine tribute explained. "Since their districts are wealthy, they are trained as soon as they're eligible to enter The Reaping."

"Trained?" Belle questioned. "But that's not fair!"

"The Careers don't have an advantage," David piped up before Emma gave him a hard look. "I'm supposed to say that," he pointed out with raised hands.

"The Careers are trained so that they volunteer," Rumplestiltskin continued. "They're rarely reaped because it's 'an honor' to volunteer. It's mind control if you ask me."

The brunette chewed her lip. "So The Careers are basically in The Capitol's pocket?"

"Right," Emma confirmed as she pushed a button on the black box. "This is the male tribute for District One."

"Jefferson," David cringed. "He has a history of mental illness, so he's a complete wild card."

"A wild card?" Belle spoke up.

"He could go either way," Emma explained and studied the image of the dark-haired boy. "He could be a weak link, or..."

"One of the strongest," David finished. "I still think she should be our top concern."

Belle's eyes shifted between the three as they continued to discuss the blonde threat otherwise known as Ingrid, a Career from District One. "You sure know an awful lot about all of this," she spoke up, her blue eyes settling on David.

"It's another advantage of living in The Capitol," the escort replied smoothly.

"Let's move on to District Two," Emma spoke up as she pressed another button on the black box. The female tribute was very observant, and it was making the victor nervous. No one, absolutely no one, could suspect the plan that was bubbling beneath the surface of the games. "Mulan," she announced as the image of a dark-haired woman flashed on the projector. "The male tribute is Robin."

"Is District Two a threat?" Rumplestiltskin feigned ignorance.

"District Two makes weapons for the PeaceKeepers," David explained as he studied the images of the teenagers. "They're trained to fight as soon as they can walk."

"They're definitely a threat," Emma agreed. "We'll need to focus on your sword skills during training."

Belle pushed her plate aside, a feeling of nausea washing over her. She had never even lifted a sword-how was she supposed to defend herself against those who practically _built_ them? Mulan and Robin appeared confident-they probably devoured girls like her for breakfast. "What about District Three?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Tink and Jiminy ," the District Nine victor read as their images flashed on the projector. "District Three is about Technology, so I'm sure these tributes aren't very skilled in battle."

"They'll probably be killed on the first day," Rumplestiltskin remarked as he propped his feet in the chair beside Belle.

"Probably so," David agreed with a nod. "What about District Four?"

"Ariel and Eric," Emma reported.

"They seem harmless," Belle ventured unsurely. The girl, Ariel, was quite pretty.

"District Four is known for fishing," Rumplestiltskin countered. "Do you know how they fish, dearie? They _stab_ them."

"And Killian, the head gamemaker, warned that you need to know how to swim," the blonde reminded the tributes.

"They'll adjust to the arena quickly," David mused.

"It seems that everyone has an advantage but us!" the brunette exclaimed. "I've never used a weapon, and I barely know how to swim!"

"Belle," Emma spoke soothingly, raising her hand to calm the hysterical teen. "We're going to do everything we can to bring one of you home, okay? Just trust me."

Rumplestiltskin shifted uncomfortably, guilt settling in his stomach. Emma wasn't lying to the girl, but...a part of him felt dirty for knowing that Emma and David would do everything in their power to bring _him_ out of the arena. Not Belle.

"Who was reaped in District Five?" the escort asked, feeling guilty as well. It was clear that Belle trusted them already, and what were they going to give her in return? A death sentence. All emphasis, all focus, had to be on Rumplestiltskin; he was the only one powerful enough to help them over throw Regina. Belle was simply collateral damage.

"Wendy and August."

Belle's eyes widened as they landed on the image of the girl. "H-How old is sh-she?" she stuttered, studying the blonde haired child. Child was the perfect adjective; the girl barely looked a day over ten!

"Twelve," Emma replied quietly as she scrolled through some notes. "It was her first time in The Reaping."

"Oh no," the teenage girl sighed, her eyes welling with tears. "She's only...she's just...she's going to..." The words caught in Belle's throat. This girl, Wendy, was practically a baby! How could she be reaped?! Her life would be over before she even became a teenager! "Thanks," she whispered as her fellow tribute quietly passed her a napkin.

Emma fought back emotion as well. Children like Wendy were why the victor was fighting so hard to end the games. In one more year Henry's name would be entered in The Reaping for District Nine. The blonde mother couldn't bear to think of her son entering the arena; what _must_ the Darling family be feeling right now? "The District Six tributes are Zelena and Leroy," she moved past the young tribute.

"Leroy is a loud-mouthed hot-head who will probably get himself killed in the first day," David rolled his eyes.

"He looks like a dwarf," Rumplestiltskin giggled, causing Belle to smile through her tears.

"Leroy isn't the problem," the blonde ignored him. "Zelena is the problem. Some of the other victors believe she plays with magic."

"Oh _really_?" the male tribute inquired, a wicked gleam filling his eyes. Finally, a challenge!

"Does magic even exist?" Belle questioned.

"Some say it does," the victor shrugged casually as the male tribute wiggled in his seat eagerly. "If this one practices magic...I assure you it's not the sunshine and rainbows kind."

"She needs to be taken out early in the game," David directed towards Rumplestiltskin, hoping the teen picked up on the weight in his voice. They weren't counting on someone of Zelena's caliber to be reaped. Unfortunately, the eighteen year old was an equal match to District Nine's male tribute. Rumplestiltskin _had_ to defeat her in order to win!

"Ah, District Seven," Emma spoke as two new images were displayed on the wall. "This one has a story behind it."

"What's the story?" Belle inquired, her eyes roaming over the pictures, the image of the boy holding her attention.

"The girl is Anna," the victor began. "Her sister Elsa was originally reaped, but Anna volunteered instead."

"Wow," Rumplestiltskin mused.

"Yeah," the blonde chimed in. "Anna is the first volunteer from District Seven, and rumor has it that she's good with a sword. The sponsors are already rallying behind her."

"Sponsors?" Belle questioned, looking to her mentor. There was so much she didn't know about all of this!

"Sponsors are members of The Capitol who support you," David explained as he looked to the brunette. "They can send you gifts while you're in the arena."

"Gifts?" Rumplestiltskin played dumb once again.

"Things to help you during the games," Emma chimed in. "It can be food, water, medicine...whatever you need at the moment."

"So are we each assigned sponsors or something?" Belle asked as she looked from the escort to the victor.

"Not exactly," David answered gently. "Sponsors choose to support you based on your score, your first impression, your interviews..."

"So basically they have to like us?" Rumplestiltskin interrupted.

"In short, yes."

Belle felt the color drain from her face. So she had to have skills and be well liked?! If no one liked her, she could be left to starve to death? Great, just great! "This is too much," she whispered, feeling the panic rise in her again.

On pure instinct, the male tribute leaned over to her. "You're going to be fine," he whispered. "They're going to love you. Just relax, okay?" He couldn't explain it, but Rumplestiltskin hated seeing the girl so upset.

"We're going to prepare you, Belle, I promise," Emma assured her.

"That's what we're here for," David chimed in. "Most of the other tributes are just as scared as you are. Trust us, okay?"

"Okay," the teenage girl nodded after taking a breath. "Who's he?" she directed her attention to the image of the attractive boy displayed on the wall.

"Graham," the mentor read from the paragraph beneath his name, "but it says his nickname is the Huntsman."

"The Huntsman?" Rumplestiltskin scoffed.

"District Seven is the lumber district," the escort reminded the arrogant tribute. "I'm sure he's quite skilled with an ax."

Belle quirked her head, her eye lingering on the image of the District Seven tribute. "Will we get a chance to meet the other tributes?" The boy was quite attractive; it was something in his eyes that appealed to her. He just looked..._good_.

"In training, yes."

"I'd like to meet him," the District Nine tribute admitted quietly.

Rumplestiltskin frowned deeply. "Stay away from him, dearie," he warned sinisterly. "He's likely to plant an ax in your heart!"

"He wouldn't do that!" Belle exclaimed, smacking the boy on the arm.

"How do you know?!" the tribute fired back. "You don't even know him!"

"Neither do you!"

"Well at least I'm not making googly eyes at him!"

The girl's cheeks flamed. "I am not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Guys, guys!" David yelled over the bickering teenagers. "Bring it down a notch, alright? Let's see District Eight!"

"Abigail and Frederick," Emma reported as she pulled up the images.

"Day one victims," the escort observed.

"Probably so," the mentor agreed and moved on to District Ten. "Aurora and Phillip."

"Phillip is good with a sword," David offered as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Aurora isn't known for any skills, so she'll probably be a day one statistic as well."

Belle shook her head sadly, wondering if the other districts were viewing her image and making similar remarks about her. She wasn't known any skills. She didn't volunteer for her sister. She didn't toy with magic. Would anyone even notice if she was in the arena or not? "Who's that?" she gasped as the District Eleven tributes appeared on the wall.

"Hansel and Gretel," Emma read, her voice dropping. "They are brother and sister...and only a year older than Wendy."

"Oh no," Belle moaned, her hand flying to her mouth. "Their poor family!" How terrible must it be to lose not one, but _two_ children to the games!

"Their father is widowed," David spoke softly as a silence settled in the room. He couldn't begin to comprehend what that man was going through as his children were being taken to their deaths.

"District Twelve?" Rumplestiltskin asked after the dining car remained silent for several moments.

"Cinderella and Thomas," Emma reported, thankful for the distraction. Tributes like Hansel and Gretel were another reminder that the games _had_ to be stopped. "They probably won't last very long either."

"Why do you say that?" Belle asked quietly before taking a sip of water.

"District Twelve is the poorest district," the District Nine victor explained. "They have few resources, even fewer weapons, and they also have the highest rate of borrowing from The Capitol."

"They might surprise everyone," Rumplestiltskin mused as he folded his hands together.

"I doubt that," David shook his head. "It will probably be best if they die in the blood bath."

A chill ran down Belle's spine. "What's the blood bath?"

"When the games begin, there's a large area of supplies in the arena," Emma explained. "Seems nice, right?"

"Well, yeah," the tribute replied quietly. At least everyone got a fair chance with supplies being available!

"Trust me, it's not meant to help you," the blonde continued. "It's meant to draw you in so that a battle can begin. Most of the tributes are killed trying to get to the supplies."

"So what should we do?" Rumplestiltskin asked as Belle went mute.

"I'd advise you to seek safe ground," Emma shrugged. "Leave it up to me to make sure that you're sent supplies." She hesitated as her gaze shifted between the tributes. "But, if you choose to go for the supplies, grab a pack. They're usually stocked with food, water, and a knife. It will at least get you through the first day."

Belle pushed herself away from the table as Emma and Rumplestiltskin continued to discuss strategy. The conversation shifted to their biggest threats as she approached the window and stared outside.

"Are you okay?" David asked quietly as he approached the girl.

"I'm fine," she shrugged before crossing her arms over her chest.

"You don't really seem fine," the escort observed.

Belle ducked her head before finally making her eyes meet his. "I'm still...I'm still processing all of this," she admitted quietly. "It's like...I'm still at home, in my district, and my name was just called. I can't...I just haven't moved past that moment yet..."

David nodded knowingly. "It will take some time to adjust to everything..."

"I'm going to die," the teenager cut him off bluntly as she stared out of the window again. "Everyone in this car knows it. I don't have any skills to defend myself."

"You're going to be trained, Belle! We're going to do everything we can to help you in the arena!"

"I have a headache," the girl sighed, turning tired blue eyes to him. "Can I please just go lie down?"

"Yeah, uh, right this way." David lead her from the dining car. "It's not much, but at least it has a bed," he said as he opened the door to a very small sleeping cabin.

"Thank you."

"If you need anything, let me know." The escort stepped back as she closed the door; seconds later he heard crying. _This is the last time_, he mentally reminded himself as leaned against the wall. _This is the last time The Hunger Games will claim the innocent lives of children._ David wished that he could save Belle; he wished with all his might that they could save her! Belle didn't deserve this-she was quiet and compassionate. She wasn't a ruthless killer who looked forward to the games; she was an innocent girl with a stroke of bad luck.

David tore himself away from her room and returned to the dining car, quietly joining Emma and Rumplestiltskin at the table. In the end, it was going to be worth it. Belle would not die in vain. Over throwing Regina and ending the games would save the future Belles.


End file.
